The Portland daily press., 1887-12-24
Written for the PRESS.
MISS LUCILLA'S CHRIST
MAS STOCKING.
BY E. cAvAzzA.

l.
The December afternoon was come to its
close The air was full Of the expectant
rest, and the earth eager with the busy rush
that belongs to the days just before Christ
mas and against the darkened sky, the
slender shape of the moon was bent as if
searching for star, lost from among her
many.
Miss Lucilla Amory, sitting at her win
dow, somewhat resembled the little thin
moon, as she leaned forward to watch the
tide of people, moving this way and that,
carrying packages that meant Christmas.
She wished that she knew what all these
parcels contained-this tenderhearted old
maiden lady-not indeed from curiosity, but
because she would have liked to picture to
herself what sort of happiness an those
other persons were to enjoy on Christmas
day. One neatly dressed little woman
slipped on the icy sidewalk; and Miss Luz
ella pulled herself together for sympathy.
The woman did not fall, she saved her
self; but in the act Of recovering her bal
ance, she dropped from her hand paper bag
which, bursting, scattered ears of popcorn
upon the sidewalk. She first looked
quickly around. to see If anyone were laugh
ing at her mishap-and then laughed, her
self. She gathered up the fallen ears and
proceeded on her way; while Miss Lucilla's
fancy, picking up like pigeon the scattered
kernels Of corn, went on to tell Christ
mas story. of group of children on the
hearth-rug before blazing fire, the oldest
shaking the corn-p9pper, while the others
watched the prosaic little kernels bloom out
into white flowers like those Of the alpine
edelweiss. Then cart came by, drawn by
oxen, laden with long green Christmas trees
with snow clinging here and there to their
branches-and Miss Lucilla recalled legends
which she had read, and half wondered if,
at the moment of midnight before the dawn
of Christmas day, these oxen would be found
kneeling in their stalls. Now came car
riage, full of pretty children with their gov
erness, confusion of blonde'heads, velvet
coats and brown paper parcels. Now there
passed, a woman with her little daughter,
both dressed in deep black-perhaps they,
more than the others, understand the
meaning of Christmas, thought Miss Lucilla.
Meanwhile, certain injustice has been
done to sweet Miss Lucilla Amory. under
which she shall no longer remain. The sill
yer bent head, her fragile shape of an old
gentlewoman may have resembled curved
moon in winter sky. to an observer who,
from the sidewalk below the second-story
window where she sat, should have looked
up and seen her patiently watching in the
twilight. But Miss Lucilla was by nature
and by principle, little given to idle musings;
SO she drew down the window-shade and
lighted her lamp. And now one who had
seen her would have compared her, rather,
to withered tea-rose which dries without
fading; its soft texture and pallid young
tints deepening to a color such as warmed
Miss Lucilla's wrinkled cheeks. She seated
herself near the lamp; and folded accurately
pair Of fine black silk stockings, to mend
which she had avsiled herself of the last
moments of daylight.
She sat in the center of the room which
was her home. Here she had gathered
close together all that was left of what had
been good in her past years she had reso-
lutely discarded troubles which were not
worthy to be kept; other griefs she
treasured with the remembrance of her few
and simple joys. The life of this woman,
innocent and almost without history, had
not been happy.
The house where she was living. was the
house where she was born. She could dimly
remember years when she might have been a
careless little girl, like the others, were 1t
not for grim atmosphere that filed the
house, hushing laughter or any happy noise
Little Lucilla had seen now her fathers
hard, cold nature ruled everything; he was
bitter and misery, with the conscientious
unconscious cruelty of certain New England
type. His wife bore all In silence; Lucilla,
too, had been silent, at first with the proud
anger of young heart, then from habit.
The mother, dying, slipped upCn the girls
slim finger ring Of rec gold set with a ruby
ALI that was left to her of the time when
she, like every other bride, dreamed of hap
piness. She gave her baby boy into Lucilla's
charge; and the girl, with all her soul on
her lips, promised to take the best care that
she could of little Alfred.
The father mourned his wife in his own
way, with resentment to the child that re-
minded him Of his loss These were dreary
years to which Miss Lucilla would not look
back; years when she had to see the brave
spirit of little Alfred driven into small de-
ceits by the unreasonable harshness Of his
father; when the boys childish dignity had
been insulted by his fathers mean suspic-
ions-and Lucilla had coaxed and charmed
him into peace as best sheI.might. "And
between us both, Heaven help me-" would
young Lucilla say to herself, 'Alfred will be
spoiledW
How far he was spoiled, was only known
to the Heaven that poor Lucilla, in her help
lessness, invoked-but it is certain that, at
the age of sixteen, Alfred Amory forged his
fathers check for few hundred dollars
and was driven out of the homestead by his
fathers uplifted cane and followed by his
fathers angry voice, while the sister stood
In the doorway. white and. fearless.
After that day, as long as the old man
lived, nothing had been heard of Alfred.
One year was like another, eventless and
miserable; the mean tyranny of her father
closed about Lucilla like coffin; and she
seemed frozen into monumental image of
patience. At length: the old man was gath
cred to his fathers-who: no doubt were
partly responsible for his Puritanic unloveli-